The Street I Grew Up On

When I close my eyes and think about the street I grew up on, I see rows of one-story houses, each with a perfectly manicured lawn. A variety of brick colors scatters over each house down the street-- my house was the taupe one. I vividly remember the warm, humid summer nights when my dad would take our two family dogs on a walk, after which he would avidly practice his golf swing in the front yard as familiar faces predictably drove by our house. Because of this nightly summer routine,  the house and the front yard felt like a comfortable, fuzzy house shoe. When I think about all of the balmy Oklahoma summers I spent in that suburban front yard, I think about my family and about how, even though we have moved out of our comfort zone into a new house, we still spent this past summer together. It just goes to show that you can change the location of a family as much as you want; however, you can never change the memories and love they share together.